Losing It
by Infinite-Eternal
Summary: Soda's first time doesn't feel the way he thought it would.
1. Chapter 1

You stare into the mirror and smooth out your large flannel. You comb and coil your greasy hair a few more times behind your ears. Your brown eyes filled with apprehension stare back at you. This was it. This was going to be your first real date, just you and her, with an _eighteen-year-old_. That was four years your senior.

She is the tutor in your pre-algebra concepts class. She's blonde, busty, and beautiful with blue eyes that droop slightly giving her a soft look and shapely lips that could certainly be multiuseful. She checked out okay on your list.

You would call her over to help you even on problems you knew how to do just so she would lean over on your desk and you could glance down her shirt or you could watch her sway her hips as she walked away.

You could tell she had a thing for you, too, the way her hand would linger extra long on your shoulder when she would help you simplify fractions.

Sure, you'd kind of dated other girls before, but it wasn't an actual date like this.

There was the awkward kiss with Maureen Jacobs at Gordo's Burgers and Malts when your buddies dared you to. She didn't seem to mind too much.

And then there was that really heated make-out with Lisa Franks behind that set of bleachers Darry recommended to you.

"This is where many _firsts _happened for me, if you know what I mean," Darry had winked at you and smiled knowingly at you. Darry had always been a stud himself. Getting girls had never been a problem for him. You knew that for a fact. The wall that separated your rooms were thin enough.

That night with Lisa behind the bleachers during a football practice, you might've had a cotton white trophy and the deflowering of both of you to take home with you. That is, had you not tried putting your hand in her panties so soon. She slapped you, and then retracted her hand from your face, remembering you were Soda Curtis, every girl's dream. She'd said she would be ready when she was ready. It was unfortunate, too; she was an awful pretty brunette. But you were thirteen at that time. A year younger than you are now. You didn't know any better.

You step out into the yard and make your way to Darry's t-bird truck. Being fourteen never stopped you from manning the driver's seat. The chirping of the crickets in the mid-August night makes you nervous as ever. You've never been with a girl at her house alone. You hop into the driver's seat and key the ignition hoping it won't wake your parents.

As you think of all the things an eighteen-year-old can do with you that can take place tonight, your anxiety starts to fade into excitement.

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><p><em>If you like where I'm going with this, I'll continue. What do you think?<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Your truck pulls up to a small elegant house.

_1453 Rover Lane_

A dainty miniature garden lines the porch with red and orange and pink flowers you don't know the name of. The porch is lit by a simple soft light.

You realize with dejection that your house is dingy and looks lived in compared to hers. Her house seems fake and too good for you. She's a Soc, after all.

White paint, soft blue trim, clean shutters, a welcome mat, and a perfectly carved door.

You bet her house would be a Soc too, if given the choice. Hell, anyone would be a Soc if they were given a choice.

Except for you and your gang.

You exhale, puffing your cheeks out, and pull the key out the ignition with sudden apprehension. The more you think about it, the more you can't help but believe that this girl might be expecting someone more on level with her socially, economically, mentally, _physically_…You don't think you'd be able to hold a conversation with her on this date. Most girls you date don't need you to use your mouth to talk much. More for other things…

You stop yourself short of her porch.

Quit doubting yourself! You're Sodapop Patrick Curtis. As if you've ever had a problem with girls!

By the time you're done giving yourself a pep talk, you're at the front door.

_Knock, knock._

You almost hope she doesn't answer. You want to walk away, but your feet won't move.

But then the door flies open, and there _she_ is in all her shapely glory. She's clad in a light pink and white dress that doesn't do too much to hide how well-endowed she is. Her golden hair is half up, half down on her sloped shoulders. You feel a pleasant tingle in the pit of your stomach when she lightly grabs your hand to give you a peck on the cheek.

She leads you into her living room where she has some sandwiches and iced tea set for you two.

She pulls you down onto the couch to sit.

"_Eat,"_ She says and giggles heartily.

You chuckle nervously, bite into your turkey and provolone sandwich, and chew slowly. For the first time ever you really don't know what to say.

"_The cables out, so we can't watch TV. Daddy didn't pay the bill."_

Hmph. You never thought you'd hear a non-grease say that. But you're not complaining; you didn't really plan on watching TV anyhow.

You notice that she's not eating her sandwich. You feel yourself twitch with excitement when you notice she's rubbing her thighs together. You wish you could openly rub yourself, too. She bites her lips and watches you as you chew.

"_What is it?"_ You ask and pretend you don't know why she's staring at you intently.

She grabs your hand and makes you put your sandwich down.

Then she leans in and starts to kiss your unmoving lips delicately with a hand on your leg.

As soon as you can realize what's happening, you start to kiss her back desperately. Your shaking hands go to her sides as her hands grabs tightly onto your greasy hair. You start to lose it when her tongue traces your lips and teases your tongue. That's when you start to feel confident again: this is second nature for you; this is your playing field.

She climbs into your lap and begins to roll herself on your lower torso. You roll your hips onto her in return. You're kissing her neck and caressing her stomach and sides with your hands.

Then she pulls her face away from you, still sitting in your lap.

She pulls out a condom from the pocket in her dress and hands it to you. You process in your mind what the condom is for. Then you look up at her to see her unbuttoning the front of her dress right there on the couch.


End file.
